


Don't Talk to Me

by LadyHeliotrope



Series: Sing a Song of Snanger Shorts [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chubby Hermione, Chubby Severus Snape, Chubby Snape, Erotic Poetry, F/M, Good Severus Snape, Hyperfocus, Parenthood, Poetry, Seduction, Severus Snape Lives, Severus Snape is a Good Husband, Teasing, Working from Home, chubby Hermione Granger, stepdad severus, stepdad severus snape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:54:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24921874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHeliotrope/pseuds/LadyHeliotrope
Summary: “Don't talk to me,” he said,  patently ignoring her the moment she entered his home laboratory.prompt: "Don't talk to me," as per blackcoffee13.  fluff for H&C crew. Standalone one-shot.  repost.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Series: Sing a Song of Snanger Shorts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803424
Comments: 6
Kudos: 60
Collections: Hearts and Cauldrons - Daily Prompts!, Hearts and Cauldrons Discord Members, Severus Snape Lives!, Stories where Severus Snape is an awesome stepdad to Rose and Hugo





	Don't Talk to Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackcoffee13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcoffee13/gifts).



“Don't talk to me,” he said, patently ignoring her the moment she entered his home laboratory.

The words made her skin prickle with disappointment, but she decided to allow herself three deep breaths before reacting. 

_ One. _

_ Two. _

_ Three. _

"I'll talk to whoever I bloody well want to, " she responded,  _ sotto voce,  _ wandering over to the bookshelves and steadily not looking in his direction. 

She ran a finger over title after title, spine after spine, edge after edge. None of them suited her fancy at the moment, but not much actually  _ did  _ capture her fancy. Work had been abysmal that day, with the nationwide pixie infestation causing such a ruckus across the whole of Britain. Not to mention, since she got home, the children had been tearing each other apart all evening.

Now, all she wanted was to settle into his den’s comfortable couch and snuggle him with a glass of dandelion wine from last summer.

Of course he was in a mood, and it was just her luck that the bottle she thought had two cups’ worth left in it was tidily placed upside-down in the corner of his jar cabinet. 

So, she was finding that her patience was thin - to the point that once she realized there was a rather bawdy-looking book of erotic poetry tucked haphazardly in a dark crevice between much more erudite reading, she couldn’t resist. It was time to get someone’s attention out of their potion.

She turned to a random page in the middle of the book, and chuckled to herself. This was sure to get a rise out of her old man. 

_ “When in April the girl writhed,” _ she whispered to herself,  _ “her loins begot with dewy frost, like snowdrops on a merry hoth, all her body long’d with wish.” _

Hermione glanced at Severus then, trying to hide a smile. Snape, indefatigable in his concentration, silently stirred three times clockwise, his face’s details faded beneath the shadow of his graying hair.

His shoulders were softer than they’d once been, sloping gently to join a body that had lost its battle with leanness at long last. The tiniest hint of podge settled at his middle, where meals finally began to stick to his bones. It made him feel more companionate and human, less like a spectre from a nightmare. His touch of pot-belly also made her feel less like she was alone in going to seed since the end of the war, seeing as her own body had only grown more matronly after bearing two Weasley children.

She liked to touch him there, around his solid middle, pressing her face into the sharp edges of his upper back, curling against him like an overly-affectionate kneazle. Her breasts warm and welcoming just above his hips, flush against his skin…

Oh, she  _ needed  _ him tonight. Needed him  _ with  _ her, not distracted by his work, not thoughtfully humming in a tone she could scarcely hear, not wrinkling his nose with disgruntlement at ingredients. 

Now, how to capture his attention? Subtlety was lost on him when he was like this - focused, determined, and single-minded. She would have to make things quite painfully  _ obvious _ , and even then she’d be fortunate to have more than a few minutes of pleasure before he wandered away again, oblivious to her  _ hunger  _ for  _ more _ .

It was almost maddening, if it wasn’t also so endearing and familiar, like looking at a photograph of some distant relative with whom one shared shapes of ears. Severus liked to be in the throes of a puzzle, and it was hard to shake him from it when he set his full mind upon it.

No, tonight she needed to be a little bit louder and bolder. It would be alright; Rose and Hugo were off in bed now, she’d made sure of that. While she did need to be up rather early for work, she didn’t mind making a late night of it.

It was her hope that they’d both be tired by midnight, if luck was on her side.

She went on reading, raising her voice and using a lilting, haunting songlike tone.

_ “The wish was for the boyish mot / that she’d once gazed upon in the wood, / not that for so long she could / dream til there came another thought.” _

The poem wasn’t particularly clear what it was about, or even very good, but the way she read it left no margin for misinterpretation. Severus, for his part, merely glanced up at her with a half-hearted glare before returning his attention to the cauldron.

_ “And whence she dreamed upon the sight / of seeing the creature fair and taut / she wondered if she rather aught / tempt him to a fine invite.” _

“Woman,” Severus growled, not looking up from his work this time. The voice was a perfectly clear warning.

Hermione didn’t give a flying fig about that. She’d figured out long ago that where she was concerned, he wasn’t nearly as harsh as his bite.

With a sly grin, she went on reading aloud.

_ “And so she swept off all her leaves / and brush’d her thighs until they glowed / so that when his eyes there he sowed / he’d become a whistle to her reeds. _

_ “So soft and sure her gestures took / all the love he’d ever owned / the finest depths to which his bones / had ever sunk or left to look.”  _

“The fuck is this,” Severus observed dryly, not lifting his gaze from his work.

“It’s  _ literature _ ,” Hermione offered, not dignifying his question with the more obvious answer:  _ Forty Poemes for Fair Poesiae _ , circa 1643.

He didn’t comment further, possibly due to distraction, and possibly due to being a stubborn arse. It didn’t matter. She was slowly but surely breaking down his barriers. 

_ “With wrapt and sure attention she / placed upon her head a crown / and soon did see him falling down / upon his brittle jealous knee. _

“ _ ~What gift! she cried in false delight / Your kingdoms fall, and I my child / see you have fall’n close to wild / So prithee join with me this night. _

“ _ –Aye but soft I swear to thee, / I have naught to offer thus / my body fails, my horse is dust, / and I have nothing for your sumptuous tree. _

“ _ ~What good is all of such and that / I have no need for mere cattle boy / but what you have, plain-spoke young toy / I see your girth, and it is fat. _

“ _ –Aye that it is, but tell me now / goddess fairest in all my life / how can I turn away from inner strife / and render pleasantness upon your brow? _

“ _ ~Ask not how, young gentle thing / let your mind rest on that thought / for already you have such pleasure wrought / to make my bosoms and loins sing.” _

At this, Severus growled and threw down his stirring-stick. A stasis charm folded over his work, and he marched over to where Hermione sat on the couch.

“You’re distracting,” he snarled, and mashed his lips against hers in an aggressive, punishing way. She coaxed and tempted him with her tongue, and before long he was sighing and wrapping her into her arms. “Damn your beauty,” he muttered, in a somewhat lilting tone that mocked her reading voice. “Damn your sweetness. Damn your eagerness. Damn you, girl, for calling me to duty.”

He’d picked up the rhyme scheme so effortlessly, it made her laugh.

“You’re very amusing,” she responded, her eyes glistening with appreciation. “I still love you, even though you’re abusing me so.”

“And I still love you,” he answered with heart-dropping seriousness. He stopped kissing her then, and withdrew enough to stare her deep in the eyes.

Then, with a gentle tug at a lonesome curl of her hair, he added, “Despite your vicious naughtiness.”

So saying, he wrestled her bodacious bottom into his arms to pull her flat on her back, and she giggled happily as he spread her across the sofa to make her twinge and scream a different kind of poetry entirely.

_ One. _

_ Two. _

_ Three. _

Their breaths came together in a mutual companionship - as did their sweat, moans, and shudders.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to @LunaP999 for the read-through! <3  
> thanks to @blackcoffee13 for prompt <3 
> 
> Fanfiction Writers and (non)Celebrities: What Do They Know? Do They Know Things?? Let's Find Out!  
> [Tumblr](https://lady-heliotrope-writes.tumblr.com/)  
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> 
> I BASICALLY LIVE FOR REVIEWS OKAY!!!! please help me out <3


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